Tea Time and Vore
by Isabella Uke
Summary: Robin, having been captured by Mad Mod, is had for tea. Inspired by a little clip from one of the chase scenes, where the Titans are in fact in his teacup. Vore warning, but no digestion.


"You're sick."

"Yes, I do think you've already mentioned that."

Robin snorted, glaring at the palms of his hands, which were pruning quite quickly in the hot water. He was a bit afraid to look up, to be honest. You would probably be scared too if you were sitting in a teacup with a madman staring at your privates. Speaking of which, he looked past his hands into the murky tea, wondering if he should in fact be covering himself up. It was a milky sort of brown and smelled strongly of caffeine. Supposedly you couldn't smell that, but Robin, in his paranoid state was sure he could.

"I don't even know why you're complaining," Mod trailed on, reaching in a bowl for something. "You won't die." From the bowl he produced two pure white sugar cubes, which, to Robin, were about the size of mailboxes. They were soon dropped quite hazardously into the cup, nearly crushing his legs, and causing a scalding splash to hit his cheek. Robin sulked a bit harder at this, contemplating being both covered in tea _and _sticky.

"It doesn't matter," he began, wiping off his face and refusing to look at the other man. "I'll still need about forty years of therapy after this fucking horror story you're about to throw me in to." Neil rolled his eyes at the remarks, leaning in and putting his head on his hand.

"You're certainly dragging out the dramatics." Robin looked up, for the first time, and was greeted by a nasty sort of smirk on Mod's falsely-young face. He looked thirty. He was probably eighty thousand. But, being all of three inches tall, Robin didn't want to press his luck on any insults. Neil got a bit irritated when you poked fun at his age, seeing as he was incredibly vain.

"Mind telling me how you'd feel if some crazy British man wanted to drink you with his tea?"

"Privileged," the redhead replied, coldly. Robin could tell he was losing interest in the banter, which was bad, bad, bad. For him, at least. "And when I'm done with you, I'll just bring you back up, clean you off. Maybe let you go. Maybe not." He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, as if lost in thought over the decision.

"And just how is it that I'm not getting digested?" Robin asked, rubbing his sticky legs. "If you're actually just going to kill me, I'd like to know in advance. So I can put up a fight." Mad Mod threw back his head and laughed, which startled Robin somewhat- he'd not been expecting that kind of answer. Neil quickly regained composure, though, and put a finger to his lips.

"I'm not going to kill you. But it's a secret how. I'd get killed for saying." Robin made a move to say something else, but Mod held up his hand. "No. We've talked enough. My tea is getting cold, and I'd like to enjoy it while it's warm."

Robin felt cold chills run up his spine despite the hot tea, and closed his eyes tight. He thought of yelling obscenities, or fighting in some way, or even begging in the hopes that Neil would take something else in exchange for his freedom. In the end, he realized he didn't want to go out with any sort of shame, especially if he actually got back to the world in one piece. After all, the last thing he needed was one more reason to feel like a total idiot in front of his enemies. The little secret about him and Slade was now common knowledge.

When he felt the teacup being raised he almost lost it and passed out completely. The only thing that kept him awake was the knowledge that he'd probably drown in the water if he fell asleep inside of Neil. Inside of Neil. He repeated it several times inside his head, trying to wrap his mind around it. It was way too strange.

The horror of being close enough to feel the sweltering, damp breath wash over his body was enough to make his legs shake uncontrollably. Although his eyes were squeezed tight shut, he could imagine the view. That smirk amplified two hundred times the size he was used to seeing; concealing what his fate was to be. The strong mint on Mod's breath made him feel dizzy.

The cup shifted and tilted, and he thought for sure that this was it, goodbye world, at least for the time being. But he was wrong. He could feel the water level shift, leaving his navel exposed, and making the air unbearably cold. He could hear Neil swallow, and he could feel himself slipping. But then, just when he braced himself, the cup righted itself.

Robin waited for a second, hunched over, before opening one eye and shifting it up at his captor. Neil looked straight back at him, one eyebrow arched.

"Why am I still here?" he asked finally, after a moment of awkward tension between him and the other man.

"It's a whole cup of tea. Surely you didn't think I'd down it in one sip?" Robin felt like slamming his face into his own fist.

"Well, I'd fucking appreciate it if you could just get it over with," he snapped, without really thinking about it. Mod laughed softly, eyes taking on a dangerous glint.

"I've never seen anyone so eager to be eaten whole," he commented lightly, "But if you insist…" With that, he grasped Robin as lightly as he could around his chest, and lifted him out of the tea.

"Holy-" the boy began, then stopped, cheeks flushing bright pink. He was cold, he was exposed, and he was pretty pissed off, but more than that, he was about to piss himself with fear.

"I didn't really mean right now!" He cried finally, feeling weightlessness take over his body, and not liking his feet off the ground one bit. Neil drew him closer to his face. Had the man's eyes always been that deep, deep shade of brown? Robin had been sure they were black before. The thought made him squirm with the crushing sense of reality it brought. Eating. Him. Neil was.

"I did," Mod replied curtly, turning Robin upside down and taking him by the ankle. Robin felt the blood rush to his head, and flailed embarrassingly, trying futilely to right himself. Neil leaned back his head and opened his mouth as if he was about to take a rather large pill without any water. The boy quickly understood why he'd done so. He was a sadistic bastard. From this view, upside down, looking straight in, the sight was nothing short of blood chilling. Neil's teeth were anything but perfect. They were all crooked, at least in the front, and stained an off colored tan from all the tea he went about drinking. Maybe earlier, Robin would have laughed at the stereotype, but at the moment he was too busy sizing up the man's back teeth, which were somehow more intimidating than his canines, even though they weren't nearly as long and sharp. At this point Neil slid his tongue out, in a very 'say ahh!' fashion, saliva clinging to it from his top teeth, in tiny strands that Robin probably wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't so very, very small. Beyond the back teeth, which he thought to himself, were at least clean, was possibly the most frightening part of the entire oral cavity.

He could see straight down Mod's throat, past his uvula [if that was what it was called; he wasn't exactly a dentist] all the way to his tonsils, which he would recommend removing once he got out, because they were a bit large. Down, down, down, just a dark, slimy pinkness, until it grew so dark that he could see no further. The thought of that being his destination sent his skin crawling once more. Neil swallowed, a difficult task with his mouth wide open, just to give Robin the benefit of watching the space contract. The hero flinched, tossing his head a bit. It was like watching a really gory scene in a movie, or watching a person give birth. It was very horrible, a little bit unbelievable, and really wrong, but at the same time, he simply couldn't look away.

"Ready?" Mod asked, closing his mouth to form the words, although he couldn't keep a smile from forming along the edges of his lips. To Robin's great displeasure he gave the boy a swipe with his tongue from his midriff up to his face. The boy made a noise of disgust, suddenly being covered in sticky, overly-warm fluid. And not the best kind, either.

"As ready as I'll ever fucking be," he said, so quietly that it was a wonder Neil heard. The laugh that followed from the villain rang painfully in his ears. Then the position was resumed; Mod tilting his head back, Robin dangling precariously from his fingers. And then the drop.

Quite suddenly, he was falling, out of the hand, through nothing but air, twisting uncomfortably. Before he reached his mark, he thought in a split second about the times that he and his friends had spent trying to throw goldfish crackers up and catch them in their mouths. Robin felt very much like a goldfish. Then, abruptly he hit the back of Neil's tongue, and it was both soft and firm, but firm enough to knock the wind out of him for a moment. He was very aware of how hot it had suddenly become, and how his palms sank in to the slippery flesh, as if it were a wet, pink mattress, in some sort of horrific cave. To his left and right were teeth, up close even more frightening than dangling over them. In his panic he attempted to gain his footing, but his feet slid on the bumpy surface, and he fell over again, face smacking back on to Neil's tongue. Robin regretted opening his mouth in surprise as he did so, because it was the equivalent of a soaking wet French kiss when his lips hit the ground.

Neil clamped his mouth shut with a loud, grating noise, and it grew unbearably dark inside. Robin was stuck between wanting to exit the horrific cave-like confines of his mouth and scrambling to avoid sliding down his throat. He didn't have long to contemplate which was worse, though, because at about that moment Mod tilted his head back more, sending Robin tumbling in to the back of his mouth. Seconds later the muscles around him contracted, not painfully, but grotesquely, coating him all over in slime, and forcing him, slower than he would have liked, down. The most disturbing part was that it almost felt good, being wrapped so tightly in warm flesh, having it rub nicely against parts that really should have been covered. He was almost thankful that the pleasure was short lived; that way he wouldn't feel guilty. The fall from the esophagus was a bit of a shock, but the landing was much smoother than before. It was like landing in a hammock, almost, a hammock in a very dark room. Once again he found himself incased in all things slippery, wrapped in a kind of heat that made him both claustrophobic and sleepy. Robin found that if he felt around with his hand, he could feel the tight ring of muscle leading to the next part of Neil's body, and he was tremendously extremely thankful that it was closed.

He waited in silence for a moment, both processing what had happened and trying to keep his stomach as he felt Mod stand up. It was a lot easier to curl up in to a ball, and it felt substantially more comforting. Robin wondered quietly how long he would be in there, eyes wide open, but blind in the total darkness. He supposed there was really nothing to do about it. From there on out, nothing was his decision. With that thought lingering in his head, combined with the lethargy from the lack of oxygen, and the heat from his location, he felt himself slip in to sleep.


End file.
